


In Red

by AThrace



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Auror Partners, Drug Addiction, F/F, auror Lexa, auror clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 11:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7889935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AThrace/pseuds/AThrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Lexa has the Dark Mark.” Clarke insists for the third time that evening. </p><p>“Clarke, I don’t really think—can we talk about something else.” Lincoln says. His hulking form occupies nearly half the booth and Octavia shifts uncomfortably beside him.</p><p>“How’s having a trainee anyway?” She asks, reaching for her drink. </p><p>“It’s fine. I thought it might be more fun, that I’d get to be the cool, but stern, older partner. But then I was assigned Lexa, who has the Dark Mark.”</p><p>***</p><p>Or the one where Clarke and Lexa take down a magical drug ring. Tags/Warnings update as the story unfolds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Red

 

Abby breaks three dishes against the wall the night Clarke’s father is taken to St. Mungos, in first year. The pieces are blue, and catch the light from where they lay on the floor and Clarke never sees her mother loose control like that again. 

“He isn’t coming back,” Abby says, while Clarke picks the pieces up to place into a towel because maybe they can be magicked back together.

“Who isn’t coming back?”

“Your Father.”

*** 

Clarke wears her Father’s watch, the Muggle kind, like him, to remind her that war is coming. She stops eating sweets at supper, and starts taking her studies more seriously.

When it all ends, Clarke doesn’t know what to do with herself. She stares at the watch some, and loads her supper plate with sweets she doesn’t intend to eat. The number of students at Hogwarts has been halved.

Alexandria Woods stops making digs at her over their potion cauldrons, and Clarke finds a new war to win.

“You should chop the newt, not dice it.” She says, making a mess of their reluctantly shared workstation.

“No. You’re wrong.” Alexandria says. 

Clarke knows she’s wrong, but she doesn’t know _how_ wrong until her potion explodes in a fountain of gelatinous goo. Alexandria half smirks, half smiles at her, so she figures she was mostly right by all accounts that matter.

***

“There,” Clarke breathes, hand in Lexa’s hair. “Don’t stop.”

Lexa’s fingers are on her thighs and push her further back into the window ledge. When she surfaces her chin glistens with Clarke’s slick.

Clarke wipes it away with her thumb and admires the red of Lexa’s cheeks. Lexa is, Clarke gathers from garbled accounts of other students, a loner, she doesn’t have friends in her house, but she doesn’t talk about it. She doesn’t smile a lot either.

“Maybe someday,” Lexa says, as they part ways after graduation.

Clarke sets the year on her watch to zero, to keep track of someday. 

*** 

Abby wants Clarke to become a healer after school and so she sits for the entry exam. The results come in late November, when the air has chilled enough to require the owls to wear small overcoats. She is admitted to Saint Mungos Residential Program for Healers and Herbalists.

She tells Abby that she was rejected, and then applies for the Auror Academy.

Two years of training pass, and then another in her newly issued Auror robes. In some ways she has been training all her life for this and in others she has to put behind her the frantic untrained mindset that lead her into the wood pursing a pack of werewolves in seventh year.

When Head Auror Kane assigns Clarke her trainee, she thinks there must have been a mistake.

“No one else will work with her,” he says tightly.

Clarke is too bewildered by the name, Alexandria Woods, scrawled across the parchment to wonder why.

***

 “You’re late, Clarke.”

Clarke juggles two takeaway cups of coffee in one hand, and a stack of medical texts in the other.

“You’re early.” She says, smiling.

Lexa was always beautiful, but she’s grown into it since Clarke saw her last. Her Auror robes are neatly pressed, and her sleeves are rolled up around her elbows, Clarke’s eyes are draw inexorably to the Dark Mark she’s clearly not trying to hide. It’s been some time since she’s seen one up close, and there’s something shocking about the way the mark mars the olive skin – and something all at once defiant and fragile about the way it’s so casually exposed.

Clarke swallows, “One of these is for you.” She tilts precariously and Lexa plucks both cups from Clarke’s hand, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Uh, was that there, in school?” She asks, setting the texts down on her desk. 

“What?”

“The Mark, did you have that when we—where, you know?” Clarke pitches her voice conspiratorially low.

Lexa raises an eyebrow, eyes sweeping the bullpen, careful.

“Yes.”

“I, you never said—“ She stumbles, awkward. Lexa is infuriatingly passive, setting the coffees down and taking a seat behind her new desk.

“Our assignment, Clarke.”

“Right. It looks like team Clexa,” she pauses, Lexa purses her lips, “was specially assigned—well that’s odd, I haven’t received a special assignment before, just the usual rotations.”

“Get to the point Clarke.”

“We’re investigating a new line of Red—are you familiar?”

“Yes.” Lexa says, shifting her lower jaw lightly back and forth. It’s a gesture that is intimately familiar. Clarke blushes and thumbs through one of the texts.

“Psychological effects include severe changes in body image, loss of ego boundaries, paranoia, and depersonalization. Hallucinations, euphoria, and suicidal impulses are also reported, as well as occasional aggressive behavior.”

Lexa scowls at the dead plant that has been left behind by her desk’s previous owner. She places the tip of her wand against the dirt, “Aguamente.”

“Like many other drugs, Red has been known to alter mood states causing individuals to become detached.” Clarke reads, running her finger along the pages. “Red may induce feelings of strength, power, and invulnerability, and has a numbing effect on the mind.”

 ***

“Lexa has the Dark Mark.” Clarke insists for the third time that evening.

“Clarke, I don’t really think—can we talk about something else.” Lincoln says. His hulking form occupies nearly half the booth and Octavia shifts uncomfortably beside him. 

“How’s having a trainee anyway?” She asks, reaching for her drink. 

“It’s fine. I thought it might be more fun, that I’d get to be the cool, but stern, older partner. But then I was assigned Lexa, who _has the Dark Mark_.”

Octavia rolls her eyes and Lincoln sighs, “Everyone knows that.”

“I didn’t know that. Why didn’t anyone tell me that?” Clarke huffs, pressing her back into the booth.

“Didn’t you watch the trials? She’s a Druid, every one of them got the Mark.”

“What, why?”

“Let it go Clarke,” Lincoln rests his chin in his hand.

Immediately defensive, Clarke bristles. “I can’t. She’s my partner now. I deserve to know and I don’t understand why you two are being so cryptic.”

Raven slides into the booth, her mechanical leg whirling softly.

“Good evening, ladies,” she glances around the table, reaching to pour from the pitcher of cheap butter beer at its center. “What has the great Wanheda so grumpy?”

Clarke rolls her eyes as Raven nudges her shoulder. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Still can’t handle your war hero status Auror Griffin?”

“Clarke was partnered with Lexa.” 

“Oh man, Lexa, Lexa?”

Octavia and Lincoln nod.

“Wonder how she ended up an Auror, what with the Mark and all.”

Clarke throws up her hands, “Does everyone know this?”

“She was acquitted.” Lincoln says, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah, Druid, I know – still can’t be an easy career path, especially for the Commander. And now she’s got Grumpy Griff over here making heart eyes at her.”

“I do not make heart eyes at her.”

“Always the Gryffindor, this one,” Raven says, clinking her glass against Lincoln’s and Octavia’s in hello, “so noble.”

“Lincoln’s a Druid and he doesn’t have the Mark.” Clarke huffs annoyed. 

“Half. I’m half-Druid. My family didn’t live with the other Druids when the Dark Lord came for them.”

“Raven, how’s your department coming along?” Octavia asks.

“Fantastic – but you all knew that. I’ve just started looking into—“

“Wait. No. No one has told me about the Druids and the war.”

“Merlin, Clarke, it’s over. If you hadn’t been so occupied with your teenage lust for her then you would have known these things a long time ago.” Lincoln slams his mug on the wooden table.

Clarke peers at Lincoln over the rim of her drink. “You still talk to her.”

Raven places a hand on Clarke’s arm and shakes her head. “I’ve started looking into running Muggle devices on magical currents, threads if you will.”

Later that night, ears ringing and head buzzing Clarke stumbles out to disapparate back to her apartment. She’s almost asleep before she lies down, and try as hard as she might to dislodge them, Lincoln's comments are her last thought before her head hits the pillow.


End file.
